Trapped
by hectatechik
Summary: Marik intends to take full advantage of the lean, silver-haired Bakura's capture, the man that speaks to his gentler side, his heart... and other aspects of his being. But Yami Bakura has no desire to let himself become Marik's mate...  bit OOC, sorry
1. Chapter 1

Poor thing.  
>Marik thought that warmly, watching his little Bakura shift in his chains. He knew for a fact that Yami Bakura had no clue of his presence, hidden away as he was in the shadows of the room, for he didn't snarl. And without the snarl on that pretty face of his, there wasn't much difference between him and Ryou. <em>Poor Ryou. Poor Yami.<em>

_I hadn't meant to kill Ryou. That had been an accident. My knife slipped._  
><em>I hadn't meant to capture Yami. That had been an accident, as well. It wasn't my fault he'd stumbled upon my castle, and I couldn't just let him live free after finding it.<em>  
><em>Oh, but still, I so like having him here!<em>  
>He was tempted to reach out, to stoke the silvery hair that fell over his dear hazel eyes. Already he could feel his lean body shuddering beneath his hand, and the thought brought him great pleasure. But he didn't want that snarl reappearing, not yet. He satisfied himself with imaginings.<br>His little Bakura looked like a fly, caught in a large web of chains. This was the torture chamber, after all. But this fly wasn't meant to be devoured. In fact, tonight all he would do was let him sleep, and bring him dinner. He would decide how to deal with the troublesome fly after he'd seen the outcome of that.  
>He'd observed how fitful his sleep was, though not yet had he hurt him. This wasn't the first time he'd awoken tonight, and probably wasn't the last. Marik admired the sweat that shimmered in a thin layer over his sleek body, lusted over it, easily imagined himself tasting it on his tongue. Most potently, he could imagine the strange pale creature he'd found sprawled and panting on his bed. How he'd fit so beautifully with his soft, red-velvet pillows and blankets, how he'd look so like a pampered kitten. And the most strong image from that was Bakura's soft, cool palm cupping his cheek, tasting his lips and smiling rather than baring his teeth. In his bed was where he belonged, Marik decided. Once he was tamed, that was where he'd go.<br>Patiently he waited, until Bakura once again sank into light rest. Then he stood and stretched, making his purple belly-shirt ride farther up his chest. Before he tiptoed out of the room, he softly caught one of the wispy white strands of hair, running his tan fingers through it a couple times. The strands felt so silky as they slid easily through his hand, and he enjoyed how beautiful a backdrop it made for his darker skin. Yes, Bakura would eventually be his. He would at first fight him, of course, but it would all be in vain... for eventually he would rest quite meekly in his arms, nice and obedient. He could hardly wait until then.

* * *

><p>Bakura surfaced once again to reality when he felt the weight of his captor's hand on his hair. Shaking slightly beneath it, he went against all the senses screaming for him to jerk away. Why hadn't Marik tried to wound him yet? With so many chains, it wouldn't be hard. The thought frustrated him, his cluelessness making him want to scream. And the hand on him was not at all helping to clear his mind.<br>After a long minute he couldn't help himself. Moaning softly, he shied away from the touch. Where had he come from? Had he snuck in while he was sleeping? He could've sworn it had only been a couple seconds... then, he couldn't really tell. He had been asleep, after all.  
>"Go back to sleep." Marik murmured gently in his ear, voice breathy. But how was he supposed to sleep in his presence, when it unnerved him so? He glared up at the man shakily, snarling.<br>"Go to the shadow realm." he replied shortly.  
>Instead of becoming angry, Marik smiled and laughed.<br>"Probably. But I would see you there, would I not?" With that, he merely nodded and strode quietly towards the door. Bakura hissed. How infuriating!  
>"Where the hell are you going?" Bakura asked, teeth gritted. Marik paused at the door, looking over his shoulder. The smile widened.<br>"Why does it matter? Perhaps you would miss me?"  
>"I'm... not done... with you," he growled fiercely, hands curling into fists. Marik, in return, gave him a teasing pout.<br>"I was going to tell my servants to make you dinner. Is that any way to treat your gracious host?"  
>Bakura exploded. "Gracious? Gracious? Gracious my ass! A 'gracious' host doesn't chain their guests to the goddamn wall!"<br>The smile slowly fell from his face. He turned back to Bakura, and paced towards him, taking one lithe step at a time. Seconds began to seem like hours, and a slow shiver ran up Bakura's spine. When he took to one knee before him, he flinched back.  
>"Don't speak like that to me." he ordered softly, voice void of emotion. His warm hand caught his chin, tilting his pale head up to meet his engulfing violet gaze... their foreheads touched, he was so close. And Bakura shook again, breaths growing ragged. "Never speak like that to me again, or I will punish you. Now, go back to sleep. One of my servants will awake you when your dinner is prepared. You will eat here tonight."<br>This time Bakura let him leave without another word, just thankful now that he'd let him go with nothing more than that light scolding. Was this what his younger brother, Ryou, had been through? He'd always thought of him as weaker, unable to handle stresses like pain. But now he understood why such stresses could frighten something helpless to it. God, why had he teased him like that? He'd give just about anything to take it back, now... why did he have to die before he could, and in such a horrible, cruelly ironic way as this?  
>Quietly Bakura closed his eyes, relaxing his tensed muscles. What on earth could his captor have in store for him? Why would he chain him here, only to treat him as sweetly as this? He didn't understand, and part of him didn't want to. He could only imagine what horrible things he could do to him now, and as he waited like this he might be using the time to plan something... something even worse.<br>Quieter still, he let himself daydream. About what life had been like only a little while before- what life had been like before his imprisonment. He'd been a wealthy man, and obtained... everything. Everything. Every single goddamn thing his heart desired. And he'd complained. He guessed it was another example of not knowing what a good thing he'd had going, not until it was gone with the wind.  
>Still, it had been such a lonely life. There had been no relatives or friends for him to talk with, visit, no womenfolk quite for his taste to marry. That was why he'd left in the first place, loneliness. It was boring being by oneself, and there was always the possibility of a new opportunity elsewhere.. But in his travels, he'd come... here. To this godforsaken place. And now he could not escape.<p>

_Help me. Someone, anyone, please help me._

But when Bakura had made that plea, collapsed so silent and shaky in his cold iron chains, he'd failed to realize that fate had an amazing sense of humour. His wish, yes, would be granted... but not for what, and in the way, he could ever have expected.

_Don't let me die here..._


	2. Chapter 2

At a lazy stride, Marik Ishtar walked down the narrow, stone corridors of his castle. Rumor had it that this place was haunted; he'd heard this from the servants as he passed by. He wouldn't have been surprised if it was, really. The castle- for the most part- was a dreary place, very uninviting to the eye, just the kind of place a ghost would want to wander about. And Marik loved it that way. He focused on the soft patter of his feet echoing down the long hallway as he walked, the slight chill that seeped through his arms and bared midriff. It served to soothe him and allowed him to focus, when a certain thing brought him stress.  
>The way his new toy Bakura treated him, for example. Since he'd stumbled in, drenched and shivering from the storm and looking for a place to stay, he'd cared for him well and kept him alive. He might even have let him move around freely, if it wasn't for his shifty eyes and mistrustful stance that made Marik sure he'd run at first opportunity. He hadn't abused his capture for his own gains, hadn't yet hurt him in any way. So why on earth did he still fight? Maybe he was frightened of his worst? Maybe, if he was less careful, he'd warm? "Master Marik!"<br>From behind him the echo of two fast-paced feet began to resound. He sighed, slowing.  
>"What is it, Anzu?"<br>Anzu caught up with him, met his gaze. That was something no other servant dared to do. Anzu had been a tough creature, for a female. She had taken a lot of time and hard work to tame, and still was a bit too wild for his liking. She was obedient, though- that was enough.  
>"I haven't seen you all day, not even at mealtime. Where the hell were you?"<br>"Careful." he warned, gradually halting and turning towards her. "My business is my own."  
>"You were with Bakura, weren't you." she spat, voice dripping with malice. For some reason he couldn't fathom, Anzu had developed a severe dislike for his newfound pet. "When you give up on trying to sort him out, I'll kill him for you-"<br>Marik's hand lashed out, backhanding her across the face. With a soft gasp she collapsed on the ground. Marik snorted, irked. and turned away.  
>"My business is my own, Anzu. Until you learn that things will be quite painful for you."<br>"Y-yes, master Marik," she whispered, rising to her knees.  
>"You will make his dinner for him, but you will bring it to me with my own. And if I find it poisoned, my dear, it will be both of you who die. Have I made things plain enough for you?"<br>"Yes, master Marik."  
>Nodding, Marik continued down the hallway to his room. He felt mildly satisfied with the whimpers and sobs that followed him as he went, and from that a smile spread across his face. If only Bakura was that easily cowed. That easily frightened, yes- but through the fear he'd just spring back- with more anger, and more bared teeth. Oh, though still part of him did admire that.<br>His sleeping chamber was one of the few rooms that was the least bit pleasant. It was one of the smallest rooms- by his choice, as he didn't much care for open spaces- so the lights in his chamber spread farther. The decorations also were in bright colors- the pillows and blankets spread across his wide bed were red and gold, the thin veil over it a soft silver. Tattered tapestries hung here and there on the wall, all those colors again. Only the curtain, which hung over the gothic-arched window of the tower, was a dark, thick black... but the black was broken by thin streaks of shimmering sapphire blue, streaks that glimmered brightly in the sun, curtain closed or no. This made Marik smile a little wider as he entered his room. He strode across the room and touched the soft blue fabric, traced one line across the sea of black, entertained for a moment by how the sunlight patterns it cast on the wall rippled when his hand brushed along it. Then, pleased and comforted, he sprawled across the plush bed and relaxed. As he waited for both dinners to be served to him, he pulled out a book from the shelf beside his bed and began to read... imagining how Bakura would feel, resting his head against Marik's shoulder, once he was finally ready to lay beside him. His heart warmed a little, something he hadn't experienced in a long time, when his mind conjured the image of telling his silver-haired catch the story he read now. How he would smile peacefully as he began to fall asleep, how perfectly the bright creature would fit in with his bright decor. Maybe having Bakura was a whim, one that would pass over time. But it was a strong whim, one that would disrupt his normal thought processes and routines, until he'd either achieved his whim or found the whim dwindling from lack of progress in obtaining it... and he had a feeling that it would be a long time before it dwindled. "Master Marik," he heard his head servant and cook, Yugi, squeak softly through his door a short time later. Slowly he exited from his dreamy trance.  
>"Yes?" he replied gently, rising to his feet and opening the door. Yugi's green eyes dropped immediately to the floor as he did so.<br>"Y-your... dinner... dinners," he rasped, holding out two covered dishes, one in each hand. Yugi was the youngest of his servants, and frankly the weakest. Though normally weakness grew annoying to him in one form after a time, Marik couldn't help but feel a bit of pity every once in a while for the once-proud spirit in his former enemy. He'd killed his brother, Yami, before his young eyes, and though he felt no remorse at all for doing so that had left Yugi harmless and defenseless. Yami, after all, had been his only protection.  
>He patted the little one's head, then relieved his hands of their burden. "Thank you. You are dismissed." he told him, chuckling. When Yugi hesitated, Marik continued with two final words; "Go away."<br>"Yes, master Marik!" he replied hastily. With that he dashed off as though too frightened to stay another minute. Marik shook his head a little as he watched him leave, amused. Pathetic.  
>Setting both trays down, he peeked under the lids... and grinned. An entire goddamn chicken, enough for two people at least- and one under each. Enough for one of his stranger tastes- leftovers. From this meal, he satisfied himself for now with only one garlicky crouton. Even after the outburst that had served to upset him for a time, he intended to dine with his captured Bakura. He figured a little time together would put him more at ease. Besides, things were so dull alone.<br>Silently he stood, balancing both trays on one arm- using his chest as a brace- so he could use the other to open the door. Once again he smiled, widely, liking the feel... though it still felt a bit unnatural on his face. This situation sealed it- if he was to make himself into a servant like this, he'd better get his reward!  
>And, hopefully, soon. <div> 


	3. Chapter 3

_"You take one step outside that door and you'll be dead within a day."_  
><em>Ryou's face twisted into a fierce snarl, tears streaming down his face. "I can survive <em>fine_ without you. I'm not a child anymore!" he screamed back, eyes brilliant with such fiery emotions. Yami Bakura had never seen his brother so angry, so... so independent. He laughed at it, not sure about anything pertaining to the situation- except that-_  
><em>"You don't have the strength to leave. You need me." he retorted roughly, holding out his hand to him as he had many times before. But this time, instead of taking it, he struck at the offer.<em>  
><em>"You don't understand! I don't need you!" he wailed softly, just for a moment looking frightened and uncertain. At first Bakura had thought he'd won. But then he continued, and all hope fell. "I'll prove to you that, <em>Onii-chan_. I'll prove to you that I can be just as strong as you!"_  
><em>"Ryou, wait-" he began, but it was too late. Ryou turned and practically fled, out the front door, across the porch, down the stairs... Yami followed after him, but tripped over the door frame and collapsed on the porch. By the time he'd staggered to his feet, he was too far away to bring back.<em>  
><em>Somehow, even though he'd no clue what awaited his dear brother, he knew that he wouldn't see him again. The thought hurt him, more than he'd ever show... hurt him enough that, for the first time in his life, a tear or two rolled down his face. Before he understood even his own actions, his hands extended towards his fleeing brother...<em>  
><em>"<em>RYOU!"

_Memories._ Though they hurt like hell, a man was nothing without his memories. Bakura understood that... but when for the hundredth time he awoke sick to his stomach with the ache of his history, he wished desperately that this one could just disappear. Longingly he pictured his Ryou's face, how he'd smile, and laugh. And how he clung to his waist when his peers would bully him- they were constantly doing cruel things to the poor boy. He'd always told him to man up, but secretly he'd hoped he'd stay the way he was. Secretly... he loved having someone to hold and to care for. Because of that, when he'd told Bakura he was going to try his luck elsewhere, he'd been as cruel as the others- in hopes that he'd cling once again... But his little boy had manned up, just as he'd told him to.  
>It was his fault, then. His fault that he'd died. Yami Bakura's slender body shook, hands fisting, making the chains rattle. The soft images of his dear brother faded, changing into the knife he'd found above Marik's fireplace; the one stained with dried blood and sprinkled with silver hair... God, he hadn't even realized what had <em>happened<em> to him until then! Only one person in the world had hair like Ryou's- and that was Bakura himself.  
><em>And the knife that had killed my brother will kill me also. There's<em> _such irony to that._ he thought, gritting his teeth. _Brother dear... you will be a part of my death, as I was a part of yours._  
>He felt a soft hand touch the collar of his shirt, its warmth resonating through his chilled skin. Gently it traced the fabric, slowly, airily, a sort of touch that spoke of ownership. His captor... Bakura jerked back, startled, irritated... and frightened at the same time. He didn't want to open his eyes, not to make this nightmare a reality. He'd much rather stay in his daydreams.<br>_What's that smell... a- a meat, of some sort...?_  
><em>"Wake,"<em> Marik breathed softly against his ear. Still his hands touched, stroked, proclaiming what Bakura couldn't accept- that he owned him, and he couldn't do a thing about it. His captors' power over him was as strong as the chains that bound him. There was no escape. Slowly he opened his eyes.  
>"Leave me the hell alone." Bakura hissed, staring hard into his violet eyes. Why did Marik have such a strong desire to stroke him, anyway? The contact made him shiver. It disgusted him. He had a strict loathing for it. And Marik acted like he couldn't get enough.<br>"You ought to treat me kindly." the man purred, pulling away a bit. His eyes betrayed no negative emotion- only warmth, and a little laughter. Bakura snarled in aggravation. What the hell was going through his mind?  
>Again gently, Marik's hand cupped the back of his head. His long fingers nestled under his silvery hair and, finally, he burrowed his face against his shoulder. The steamy breaths against his neck infuriated him beyond reason. Yet at the same time, the rhythm of it soothed him. He couldn't quite understand that, and certainly didn't accept it- which only strengthened the fury he felt. Not being able to do a damned thing about it, he tightened his muscles in protest until he quivered with the tension.<br>Unexpectedly he felt Mariks' teeth bite deep into his neck, drawing thick red blood nearly instantly. Startled, Bakura gasped and tried to wrench away... but the hand in his hair became a restraint. A soft moan of pain escaped his lips, breath catching, eyes squeezing shut. Marik's tongue flicked over the wound a couple times, catching the blood.  
><em>Ignore the pain. Don't show the pain. It'll only please him...<em>  
>After a long minute Marik finally pulled away. Now quivering for a completely different reason, Bakura fell completely limp. The blood trickled slowly down his skin, down his shoulder, chest and back, soaking into his clothes and dripping with a soft plop onto the floor. So he was to be tortured before his death... he sighed, all hope of a painless end leaving him at that very instant.<br>Slowly his head lifted, glaring up at the man. His heart could barely contain the hate that he was beginning to feel for him.  
>"Marik." he snarled, spitting out the name like poison. "You'll have to do better than <em>that<em>, you idiot. I'm not _that_ weak!"  
>"Oh?" He blinked, then smiled- showing bloodstained teeth. "And what do I... <em>try<em>... to do?"  
>"You're trying to cow me."<br>A chuckle. "You're so pretty. It _would_ be fun for me..."  
>Bakura froze. Fun? <em>What was I captured by, a<em> sadist?  
>"Leave me the hell alone, you bastard." Bakura hissed, shaking himself free of Marik's hand- which still tried to pet his hair and skin. When still he persisted, a soft groan resonated from his lips. <em>Torture.<em>  
>"What's the matter? Do you not like my touch?" he smiled teasingly, his hands retreating to his lap. Bakura's vision blurred a bit, the lack of blood beginning to take its toll.<br>_"No_. I just absolutely _adore_ it." he spat sarcastically, blinking and trying to refocus even as he glowered.  
>Gently Marik patted his head. He responded by cringing away from it. But that action made his senses reel, and the next thing he knew the chains were the only thing supporting his weight. Through a white haze he watched Marik pout.<br>"Is my poor kitty sick?" he asked, scratching his head behind the two tufts of hair that reminded most people of ears. Bakura glared at him, seething.  
><em>"Don't you<em> ever_ call me that!"_ he screamed at him, his anger fueling him enough to strain ferociously against the chains. All his life, the term 'kitty' had struck a nerve; this time he had been pushed to his limit. At first, Marik looked startled. Then, to Bakura's dismay, that satisfying look turned back into amusement.  
>"If you're going to act like that, I won't feed you," he laughed, nuzzling his nose against his. Bakura felt like screaming in frustration.<br>"D-don't touch me!" he cried, lurching back. That was about all his body could take, in this state. His sight was plunged into a dizzying black. But Marik's hand on his cheek pitched him right back.  
>"Kitty." he was whispering, voice faint to Bakura's ears. "Good kitty. It's alright, kitty."<br>Bakura merely trembled this time, too weak to do a thing about it, too worried that if he tried he'd black out completely- and too scared of what would happen to him if he did. Marik's hand moved to his injured neck, two fingers touching the wound, then pulling back to allow him a closer view of the blood that had stained them.  
>"Good, frightened kitty. Pretty kitty. Is your wound beginning to hurt you?"<br>Bakura didn't respond. He refused to give him that satisfaction. But Marik seemed to understand.  
>"It's alright." Standing, he smiled and left the room. Bakura breathed a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and just wanting to sleep... but he was denied even that. Marik came back what seemed like just seconds later, this time carrying a small, purple, silk satchel. The smile still lit up his face as he opened the bag, and turned soft as he pulled out the contents one by one. Bakura watched the scene with detached fascination. <em>Alcohol... gauze... cotton... hell, I'm not in that bad a shape, am I? It was just a little... vampire... bite,<em>  
>Marik pulled out the final item, the sight of it making his blood run cold. "No..."<br>"Pretty kitty." he repeated softly, preparing the tranquilizer shot with amazing quickness. Quickness that could only come from practice. Bakura tried to shy away from him once again, but this time he caught his upper arm in a vice-like grip. With no further warning he injected the serum. "You'll sleep for awhile now," he continued gently, his hand loosening and sliding down his arm. The offending items dropped back into the bag at the same time Marik clasped his hand. "and we'll dine when you wake." A chuckle as Bakura continued to strain weakly against him. "I wasn't careful _enough_ this time. I punctured a major artery in your neck."  
>"At least I'd die and be free of <em>you<em>," Bakura spat.  
>Instead of gratifying him with a verbal answer, Marik merely squeezed his hand... not releasing this tight grip. Bakura didn't just stop fighting at that- fighting for both his consciousness and his pride... but soon the tranquilizer took effect. It wasn't long until Bakura was fast asleep, helpless to Marik's plans for him. The last thing to flutter through his drugged mind was a cold, merciless fear. <em>D... damn... damn it... I can't... black out. Not now...<em>

**_I'm sorry this chapter was even worse than the ones before. I'm not very good at this yet. If you give me time and be patient with me, I'll do my best to catch on._**


	4. Chapter 4

Marik watched his little capture sink into a deep rest- the first deep rest he'd ever reached, at least in Marik's presence. It made the soft smile on his face grow softer, a tenderness spread through his 'heart'. At least, that was the term- in reality, of course, he knew it was only his minds' response to Bakura's stimulus, his... _helplessness_. But the romanticism of his heart being the source of emotion had always appealed to his less reasoning side. And so the gentle smile remained. In rest such as this, the harshness of Bakura's expression faded. The tough, arrogant, chiseled sort of look vanished, his face becoming all the more pretty and smoothe. Half of Marik loved this, as well. The other half wasn't sure what to feel. As cute and innocent as it was, it wasn't the real Bakura's fiery spark. And in this sleep, he looked so like poor Ryou...  
><em>Ryou<em>. The smile he word turned more wistful at the name...  
>Slowly the present faded, replaced by short clippings of his memories relating to the boy. Ryou hadn't been nearly as much of a problem as Bakura, that was for certain. He'd been quiet and meek, happy with anything he'd offered him. Marik had never had to bind <em>him<em> in any chain or rope. He had allowed the boy freedom around his castle, and Ryou had never made a lie of his word to stay inside.  
>He was a daydreamer, as well- and told such great tales to Marik, ones that came from those imaginings. <em>That<em> was what had appealed to Marik the most, the stories. He had always had an obsession with books and such, going through them so fast he ran out of new tales quickly, and any new stories that he could find were always cherished. Time and time again he'd called him from his sleeping chambers, to tell a story or two... and often times he fell asleep on his bed, too exhausted to return to his own. Most the time Marik left him be, savoring the latest tale or retelling in peaceful silence, but sometimes he'd be so impatient for another that he'd urge him to tell just one more- with a slice from the knife at his delicate skin.  
>That was how his knife had killed Ryou, actually. A pure accident. He'd cut too deep, and Ryou cringed from pain so much harsher than he was used to. The shifting had made his injury fatal. Hopefully, this injury wasn't fatal also. Just as slowly as he'd entered, he let his mind exit the past and merge back into reality. He watched the soft, snowy face of Ryou shift into the angular and crystal-like face of Bakura. Yes, there were still some differences between the two... one of which being their physical maturity. Bakura was also stronger, and most likely more... experienced; but those traits, tasty as they were, would be useless unless he survived to use them.<br>Reaching into a side compartment of his bag, he felt around until his slender fingers came in contact with cold steel. His hand curled around it, pulling out the small, tarnished key, feeling it slowly warm to his touch as he watched his capture rest. Panic was a feeling he rarely felt, the same with any kind of anxiety or need to rush- and this moment was not an exception. He allowed his eyes to get their fill.  
>He soon grew bored with merely looking. The fingertips of his free hand stretched out, tracing Bakura's hard, smoothe lips with a touch that was barely there. In sleep, there was no fight against him. His lips parted meekly on contact, a soft noise from his throat accepting the touch willingly, almost urging it on.<br>But he was asleep, unaware of the happenings, unaware of each action Marik gave and his reaction in return. And that was no fun. Leaving the interaction at that he pressed the small key into the lock of Bakura's chains, turning it and setting him free. He collapsed in a heap on the ground without the suspension of his bindings. Marik sighed warmly. _Poor_ _thing_.  
>Firstly, Marik tended to the wound itself. He opened the lid to the alcohol, stretching out the injured neck and tilting the bottle slightly so that the liquid trickled into the wound. The pale, bloodied body shuddered, gasped, the feel of it frothing inside his veins making him twitch and groan in pain. Lust softened Marik's lavender eyes, a smile playing on his face.<br>Soon Bakura lapsed into silence, and with delicate fingers he continued with the patching of his newfound pet. The expression on that usually steely face stayed vulnerable throughout, as he hadn't injected too much of the tranquilizer, the only responses slight twinges of his temple when his touch became too rough. Naturally, this made him treat him with slightly less care. It satisfied him, to see him suffering _quietly_ for once.

"Good kitty." he crooned after he'd finished, patting his fair head. His expression became less pained, less stressed, once his hand moved from the highly sensitive flesh of his injury.  
>Deft fingers led Bakura's chin, pulling his head in to rest against Marik's tan cargo pants, comfortable in his lap for the both of them. The same long, slim fingers rested atop his head, stroking gently down his shoulders before retreating and starting down their path again. The absentminded petting of his new kitten was relaxing, almost therapeutic. The repetition of it made it easier for Marik to think. About Bakura's surprising weakness.<br>His pet was terrified of needles. Or at least of what they inject. He was sure his eyes weren't deceiving him when they'd seen the proud spirit cringe from the tranquilizer, and certainly not when they saw the fear jump into his pretty hazel eyes. He was terrified, certainly. And it seemed to have occurred because of the shot. Marik took note of that quietly, grinning as he mulled over his newly revealed advantage. Maybe Bakura would behave himself if he kept the weapon handy... He heard the door creak open, from behind where he sat. Marik continued to stroke Bakura's silvery hair and soft, pale skin, listening intently.  
>"M-master Marik?" Yugi's tentative little voice whispered after a minute, so quiet he could barely pick up the sound. "I-I see I'm disturbing you, I'll just-"<br>"No, it's alright. Come in." he murmured, gesturing widely and with a flourish for him to enter. Like a mouse, the servant scurried inside.  
>"Master, you didn't eat your dinner!" he cried, before his voice dropped to a tiny quaver. "Was it... was it displeasing...?"<br>"No, no. There were just other matters that needed to be attended to." A slow smile came to reside in the lower regions of his face. "I trust you'll make something equally appetizing out of it for tomorrow."  
>Immediately Yugi brightened. "Yes, master Marik! I'll start planning for it right away!" Marik nodded, expecting the child to leave. But to his surprise he continued to hover over his shoulder anxiously.<br>"Yes?"  
>The unexpected sound made him squeak in fright.<br>"O-oh- sorry. I was just wondering... well, will he be alright? He looks to be in sorry shape," he explained, lowering his head obediently. "But it's none of my business, master Marik!"  
>Marik shook his head, chuckling. "I think it's a legitimate question. Yes, he'll be fine. No worse for wear, once he's healed."<br>"Good. Uhm, is there anything I can do to help?"  
>"No. Just don't disturb his rest."<br>"Yes, master." Finally Yugi picked up the plates, having much trouble balancing it with his tiny arms and body, then paused at the door. "Uhm... one more thing..." he stammered softly, "What... what happened to him, to make him like that?"  
>"<em>That's<em> none of your concern." Marik snapped, growing just the slightest bit irritated with the question. His voice made the boy jump, and bowing one last time- while nearly toppling the plates in the process- he scampered quickly from the room.  
>Alone once again with his kitten, he accepted the sudden, strong urge to tightly cuddle with him. He only did this a minute, long enough to satisfy the craving, and Bakura didn't seem to particularly mind. Actually, he seemed to rather enjoy it. A light smile played on his usually so hardened face.<p>

Then, he _whispered_. And the one word he uttered was enough to honestly leave Marik wide-eyed and speechless- with what emotion, he couldn't tell.  
>"Ryou..." he had murmured, tightening his arms around his bare midriff. "...Ryou."<br>_He and Ryou...?_

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><p><strong><em>I'm sorry I took so long to upload, anyone who cares enough to need this apology. I've been distracted. And any reviews for improving the story are very much welcome. *grin*<em>**


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